Assassin's Pride
by JessMaster'sMistress
Summary: Hinamori Amu is an assassin for a secret ficinity known as Division 13. Killing is all she's ever known. But now that she's nineteen she wants out. She meets the perverted Ikuto Tsukiyomi, who shows her what its like on the other side of life.


PrologueThe Club

_**S- is for the simple need**_

_**E- is for the ecstasy**_

_**X- is just to mark the spot, 'cause that's the one you really want. **_

_**((Disclaimer: I don't own Shugo Chara, Ray-Bans, or Nickleback)) **_

-Amu POV-

Time: 10:30 pm

Date: Classified

Location: Akitona Night Club, Downtown Tokyo, Japan.

Target: Sanji Akitona

Case Manager: Hinamori Amu

Music blared out from the loudspeakers that were suspended carefully in every high corner of the large room. The darkness was almost too thick for even me to see through. But I managed well enough. Sweaty people on the crowded dance floor ran into each other by mistake every move they made, but they ignored the brief collisions and continued to thrash around like fish caught together in a large net.

Though there was no light but the neon signs on the walls, I kept my dark Ray-Bans on until I reached a tall corner table with only two cushioned stools. I set them down on the black tabletop, then removed my leather jacket, draping it over the stool's back. Rima had prepared me for tonight, picking out my undercover wardrobe. I wore an itchy, but believable, dark-red wig that went in a straight curtain to my slender waist, neon green contact lenses, and the outfit I was dressed in made me fit in quite nicely. A tight-fitting, revealing red tank-top that laced up with ribbons in the back and squeezed the hell out of my already-taut stomach, and a very short black mini skirt that grasped my butt so tightly it was nearly impossible to breathe. Not to mention the over-done makeup and knee-high stripper stiletto boots.

I'd gotten plenty of looks from patrons of the club since I'd entered from the front doors, near the lit-up bar. Barely five minutes in here and already I was burning up—and I was hardly dressed in anything at all! This was ridiculous.

"Come in, Agent 13?" Seiga's voice came through my earpiece. I pressed my slim fingers to it, then spoke lowly but urgently above the music. "Agent 13, reporting. I've made it so far without being noticed. No sight of Akitona, though. I'll keep looking."

"Good. Report back to me in an hour." Seiga replied. He sounded exactly how I felt; exhausted. "Right." I was about to cut the earpiece connection, but he suddenly stopped me. "And—Amu?" he began timidly.

Momentarily startled, I pulled my fingers away from my ear. "Yes?"

"Be careful."

I smirked to myself. "Always am."

Then I cut the connection, walking towards the packed dance floor. "S-E-X" by Nickleback was now pulsing from the ceiling, shaking the entire building, it seemed. I moved against people seductively enough that I wouldn't be noticed or seen as suspicious. Just another drunk clubster out for a good time. That was my angle.

While I danced, I kept a sharp eye out for my target. All I saw were dark walls, empty balconies, and some stray people who still sat at their tables, drinking, eating, or talking. Some patrons made-out on the couches in the back. Other than that…no sign of Akitona. A tall guy had just grabbed my waist when I'd spotted him at last. I wrenched away, fighting and pushing my way through the party turned mosh before me. Well, mosh would be exaggerating a bit, but it was packed enough that it could be mistaken for one.

Sanji Akitona was a tall, handsome man with a five o' clock shadow, black hair, and brown eyes. He wore a black business suit with a red tie over his muscular chest, and he was laid back in a chair, surrounded by many women in skimpy outfits, pouring him shots of Vodka. I coolly slipped past the girl holding the bottle and took it from her. "Drink, Akitona-sama?" I offered in a light, awe-struck voice.

He smiled slightly and nodded, holding out his crystal shot glass. "_Arigato_," he said, bowing his head a little as I poured the Vod out. His eyes were practically swimming already. What a light-weight, for someone who owned a bar.

"_D__ou ita shimashite, _Akintona-san," I dared. I looked up at him as I poured the glass again. He smirked and waved off the other ladies. Looking spurned, they all spun and sauntered off. He sat up straight and took the bottle from me, setting it on the countertop beside him.

"What's your name?" he asked. I felt my pulse quicken, but I'd been in worse situations before. My brain racked for my false ID. What had the license said? Nori Kabuli, I thought. I'd had so many aliases, I couldn't be sure…

"Nori," I said anyway. It was better than nothing, and if I hesitated much longer, he'd find me out. Then I leaned forward. "And yours?" I pressed, adding a coy tone to my voice.

"Sanji Akitona, as if you didn't know," he laughed. I laughed with him, quite convincingly, I might add. The smell of alcohol on his breath was strong and it turned my stomach, but I fought back the urge to vomit. He took my hand, standing up and leading me towards the dance floor again. I dreaded another fight-for-air experience, but I acted like I was pleased to be invited to dance with him.

Of course, the kind of dancing he had in mind was something I'd never really do. So I reached to my thigh nonchalantly and grabbed the concealed black holster strapped under the hem of the skirt. He had his back momentarily turned, and this would be my only chance. I remembered what I had to do. Kill him, grab the evidence, and leave.

I was so experienced at this by now, it was basic routine and common knowledge. In one fluid motion, I'd freed the Glock from its confines, cocked it, and had it pointed at Sanji Akitona's forehead; he'd turned around and now his eyes were wide. He looked like he might yell, but the sound of my bullet hitting his skull drowned out even the music. In the shock and sudden chaos, every person in the building rushed forward to see the man bleeding, lying dead on the floor of his own club.

While they marveled in macabre awe at the body, I slipped through the back door, jacket, gun, and sunglasses in hand….

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